


The Secret Tony Sketchbook of Shame

by bookinit



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And everything after, Artist Steve Rogers, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Ignores Civil War, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookinit/pseuds/bookinit
Summary: As Steve sketched, he fell in love.Steve fell in love with the curve of Tony’s smile when he told a joke, the dramatic arch of his eyebrow when he sassed Jarvis. He fell in love with the adorably sleepy slump of Tony’s back when he was under caffeinated, and the manic light in his eyes when he was inventing.So yeah, it was safe to say that Steve was pathetically gone on Tony.Good thing he would never find out.





	The Secret Tony Sketchbook of Shame

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by my absolute love of soft!artist Steve and Stony fluff. There’s nothing explicit in here but like a little something at the end so be warned (It’s literally like less than one paragraph but whatever). This is set vaguely in 2012 Avengers era but most new Avengers are in it except Bucky, who is still Winter Soldiering it up at this point. And he’s mentioned. Anyways, enjoy!❤️

Steve furrowed his brow in concentration. The graphite of his pencil made slow, steady strokes over the paper. The arch of a familiar eyebrow, the curve of a familiar back. The hours flew by, and longing was given form. 

Suddenly, as if coming out of a daze, Steve blinked and put down his pencil. He looked at the page. 

... Damn it. 

This was his one hundred and fourth drawing of Tony. Not that he was counting. 

It was also the last page in his sketchbook. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a small cardboard box from underneath his bed and deposited the sketchbook inside while he picked up a fresh one to place on his nightstand. 

Steve pushed the cardboard box of shame as far as it would go underneath the bed and hastily arranged some art supplies in front of it. As far as he was concerned, the secret Tony sketchbook would never see the light of day. 

Steve’s obsessive hobby started fairly innocently. He had been drawing all of the Avengers, trying to familiarize himself with his new world, his new team. Back during the war, he had constantly drawn Bucky, and then Peggy. Of course, he still drew them, but now he had new faces to add in. 

And it just so happened that he liked Tony’s face the best. 

It was no secret that Tony was an attractive man. He had been voted Time’s sexiest man alive for six years in a row, and  _ boy _ did he deserve it. As soon as Steve began drawing the bristle of his goatee, the deep mocha of his eyes, the way his thighs curved when he walked (not to mention his ass, because  _ god damn _ ), he was hooked. 

At first, Steve told himself that Tony had aesthetic features, that was all. Challenging features, even. Very challenging features that needed to be practiced. Frequently. 

But as time went on, Steve couldn’t kid himself any longer. He knew that his obsession went further than simple attraction. Steve would spend hours on the ratty couch in Tony’s lab, sketching to his heart’s content. 

As he sketched, he fell in love. 

Steve fell in love with the curve of Tony’s smile when he told a joke, the dramatic arch of his eyebrow when he sassed Jarvis. He fell in love with the adorably sleepy slump of Tony’s back when he was under caffeinated, and the manic light in his eyes when he was inventing. 

More importantly, Steve fell in love with the way Tony made him feel at home in the century. The way he would guide Steve through manipulating holographic projections, but didn’t coddle him or make him feel stupid. He asked Steve for input on his designs and then went above and beyond to implement his suggestions. They had regular movie nights where, more often than not, Tony fell asleep slumped on Steve’s shoulder and Steve carried him to bed. 

So yeah, it was safe to say that Steve was pathetically gone on Tony. 

Good thing he would never find out. 

***

“Good morning, Tony,” Steve beamed as Tony stumbled into the kitchen. He looked particularly irresistible, with his threadbare t-shirt slipping to show his tanned, muscled shoulder, and his hair artfully ruffled from sleep. Steve’s fingers itched for a pencil. 

Tony made a small, unintelligible snuffling sound as Steve passed him a mug of steaming coffee. He watched fondly as Tony downed the whole thing in one go. 

Slowly, light returned to Tony’s eyes. He looked up at Steve with a soft smile. “Morning, Cap.”

The other Avengers gradually filtered into the room, and soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of laughter and sizzling bacon. Thor clapped Clint on the shoulder and heartily laughed at a joke he had made. Natasha and Bruce made small talk as Bruce idly stirred his herbal tea. Peter, who was visiting for the weekend, showed Tony something on his phone as Tony watched him with fond exasperation. 

Steve stood at the stove, flipping his omelette, as he realized this was the closest he had come to family in a long time. He hadn’t felt this at home since... well, since Bucky and 1940s Brooklyn. It was a nice feeling, one that curled up into his toes and left him feeling pleasantly warm all over. 

Tony glanced up from Peter’s phone and caught Steve’s eye, giving him a small smile. Somehow, Steve felt that Tony knew exactly how he was feeling, exactly what he was thinking. 

Hopefully, Tony hadn’t suddenly developed the ability to read minds. That would get real awkward, real fast. 

Steve slid his omelette onto a plate and took his seat at the table next to Tony. 

At the same time, Sam and Wanda entered the kitchen, talking animatedly. Sam’s face lit up when he saw Steve. 

“Steve! Hey, we were just talking about you,” Sam enthused. 

Steve, rushing to swallow the enormous bite of omelette he had just taken, gave him a bemused smile. 

“Oh? What about?” 

Sam slid into an empty seat across from him and Tony, Wanda right next to him. Red tendrils gracefully flew from her fingertips as she floated a sesame seed bagel across the room and took a bite before speaking. 

“Vis and I’s one year anniversary is coming up, and I wanted to get him something nice. Sam was suggesting a portrait of us,” she smiled, setting down her bagel, “drawn by you.”

For a split second, Steve was taken aback. Not many people knew about his passion for art, or bothered to care about it since it wasn’t relevant to his fighting ability. But Sam had seen the best and worst parts of him, including the secret Tony sketchbook. Not that Steve had willingly shown it to him — Sam had walked in on him one day as he was sketching in his room. Needless to say, he was sworn to secrecy. 

Wanda was idly waving her hands as she talked, creating red swirling patterns in the air. “I have to say, I had no idea you were an artist, Steve! But I would be honored if you would do this for me — just name your price.” Steve gave her a smile. 

“I have to admit, it’s more of a hobby. I’m not a professional or anything —“ Sam gave him an incredulous look. 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s way too humble. His work is amazing,” he enthused to the rest of the table. Turning to Steve, he reassured, “You’ll do an amazing job, I already know it.”

Next to Steve, Tony perked up, suddenly much more awake. Turning to Sam, he inquired, “You’ve seen his work? He’s always so private about it. He’s never shown me,” he says, a faint note of jealousy in his voice. Steve opens his mouth to reassure Tony, but Sam quickly cuts in. 

“Oh, his work is incredible! Very... inspired. You should definitely get him to show you sometime,” Sam says, with a pointed look in Steve’s direction. As discreetly as he can, Steve kicks him under the table. Sam, mature as he is, sticks his tongue out. 

Turning to Tony, Steve says, “Sorry, I’m just not very good. I’ll show you some sketches though, if you want.” 

Steve is already carefully planning which sketches to show him; some of the Brooklyn landscapes, maybe? Probably the one of the team, too. Definitely the one of Dummy making a smoothie, Tony would like that. 

Tony smiles at him, laughter lines in full force. “I would love that, Steve.”

Steve smiled at him, wishing he had a pencil to depict the brilliance of Tony’s smile when it was directed at him. 

***

Later, Steve was curled up on Tony’s sofa, sketching, as he often does. This time, though, instead of sketching Tony, he was sketching Wanda and Vision. It was frustrating; he hadn’t drawn them frequently enough to be comfortable, and he kept puzzling over how the light reflected off of the mind stone. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony glancing over at him, practically vibrating with uncontrolled energy. It was obvious he wanted to say or do something, but was restraining himself. With a sigh, Steve lowered his sketchbook to look Tony in the eye.

“Tony. Come on, you’re distracting me,” Steve teased. “I can hear you thinking from all the way over here.” Sitting up, he said, “Seriously, though, what’s wrong?”

Tony, still buzzing with energy, bounced a little in his seat. “Nothing’s wrong, Steve. Just wondering when you’ll let me see, that’s all.” He looked like he was physically holding himself back from running over to Steve’s sketchbook, like a cute, overeager puppy. 

Steve sighed fondly. He sat up a little and patted the space next to him on the couch. “You can come see now, if you want. Don’t expect it to be anything amazing, though.” He frowned down at the paper. Was Wanda’s hair that thick in real life? Vision’s arm was at an awkward angle, looking uncomfortably bent out of place. The more he looked, the more imperfections seemed to pop off the page. 

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He burst out of his chair in a flurry of movement, skidding over to the couch and snatching the sketchbook from Steve’s hands. 

Steve watched as Tony’s face went through a complicated rollercoaster of emotions, cycling through shock and awe and pride before settling out to a nice contentment. “Steve, this is amazing,” Tony said, voice hushed. “Can I see some of your other stuff?” 

Steve smiled, inching closer to Tony. He was glad that Tony liked it, even with all its flaws. Feeling the need to show off, he said, “there’s a sketchbook in my room that you can go get,” thinking of the innocuous book next to his bed that was filled with various Avengers and New York skylines. It was some of his best work, but was nothing compared to the sketches of Tony that lay beneath his bed. But, for obvious reasons, he wouldn’t be showing those to Tony anytime soon. Or ever. 

Tony nodded, standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he exited the room. 

Steve honestly didn’t know what to think about showing Tony his sketches. His art was such a private part of himself, and he had never shown anyone his work on purpose. Not since Bucky, at least. 

Part of it stemmed from Steve feeling like his art was a silly little hobby and nothing more. His therapist would disagree, had been trying to get him to do recreational activities just because he wanted to.  _ What does Steve want?  _ was a phrase she used in almost every session. It reminded him of the first time he met Sam, and he had asked what made Steve happy. He honestly hadn’t known, and it had been a hell of a journey to find the answers. 

Art made Steve happy. The feeling he got when he got lost in a drawing was unparalleled to anything else. It felt like he was floating, free and relaxed. Still, it felt like a waste of time, like he was being selfish by using his efforts on something so frivolous, something that didn’t help save the world. 

Tony made Steve happy. Tony was a light in his dark life, a reason to get up in the morning, go out and socialize. Tony gave him the gift of friendship, of  _ family _ . Sure, Steve got along with the other Avengers, but Tony was his best friend. Sometimes he reminded Steve so much of Bucky that it made his chest hurt. They were both spitfires, innovators and charmers. They were the movers and shakers of the world, fellas who were going places and Steve was just there for the ride. He loved both of them. 

Bucky would have liked Tony, Steve thinks. They would have gotten on like a house on fire, maybe literally if they got up to hijinks in the lab together. Bucky had always adored technology, had been working on an engineering degree before he was drafted. He would have loved today’s world, with its fancy cars and cellphones and holograms. The world that Tony helped create. 

Tony was incredible like that. Tony had everything: brains, looks, talent... Tony had... Tony had been gone for a long time.

Steve sat up with a start, checking the time on his phone. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he’d sent Tony to pick up his sketchbook, and with the proximity of Steve’s room he definitely should have been back by now. 

Maybe he just stopped by the kitchen for a snack. Or got caught up with a phone call. Or... decided to take a look around Steve’s room. The last thought imbued Steve with a raw sense of panic. He was genuinely trying not to assume the worst, but he knew how often Tony’s curiosity got the better of him. Why on earth had he thought it was a good idea to let him go up to Steve’s room alone? Steve should have gone to fetch the book himself. 

On that thought, Steve hurriedly jammed the button to the elevator and began the ascent to his room. His breaths became panicked, his muscles and limbs restless with nervous energy. He glared at the number on the elevator display screen.  _ Can’t this thing go any faster?  _ he thought in an annoyed frenzy. 

After what felt like an eternity, the doors finally opened and Steve rushed into his room. And immediately stopped short, taken aback. 

It looked like a hurricane had torn through his bedroom. There were art supplies haphazardly strewn across the floor, with boxes pulled out and pages of sketch paper laying discarded on the ground. 

In the middle of it all was Tony, sitting with Steve’s sketchbook neatly closed on his lap. The secret Tony sketchbook of shame, to be exact. Because that was a very important detail to note. 

Steve felt faintly like he was going to have an asthma attack. Except for the fact that it was biologically impossible. Didn’t stop his lungs from trying, though. 

Steve wracked his brain for something to say so that they didn’t have to keep sitting there staring at each other like idiots. A few moments of awkward silence passed. 

“Um,” Steve said, intelligently. 

Tony looked faintly like he was about to pass out. “Hi,” he said, voice surprisingly steady, considering he looked like he had just been hit by a truck.

Steve gathered his wits. Took a deep breath. He would get through this conversation if it killed him. “Hi. So um... What’s going on here, exactly?” Steve winced as soon as the words left his mouth. They sounded too accusatory, and there was no way in hell he was blaming Tony for finding the sketchbook. If anything,  _ Steve _ was the one in the wrong for violating Tony’s privacy with his creepily obsessive drawings. 

It didn’t matter. Tony went off like a rocket, words flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. “Well, I got your sketchbook, like you asked — incredible stuff, by the way — but then I thought maybe I could do something nice for you, ya know? And the pencil you were using seemed a little run down, and maybe you wanted oil paints, or colored pencils, or something to finish it off.” He takes a deep breath.

“And I didn’t mean to snoop, I swear. I saw the art supplies sticking out from under the bed and I went to grab it, and I just wanted to know what was in the box, that’s all. I didn’t expect...” Tony looked cowed, like he expected Steve to start yelling at him any second now. He looked up, eyes sincere. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to violate your privacy.”

Steve struggled to find the words. “Tony... if anyone should be sorry, it’s me. Those drawings are — did you see them?” At Tony’s miniscule nod, he continued. 

“Those drawings were a violation of your privacy, and I’m so sorry. You can keep the book, if you want. Or burn it. Whatever you want to do.” The thought of Tony burning his beloved drawings twisted Steve’s heart unpleasantly, but he wouldn’t blame him for it. Steve’s not sure exactly how he would react to someone having a creepy collection of drawings of himself, but he probably wouldn’t be thrilled. 

“Steve, no, of course I’m not going to burn your book. I’m not... mad, or anything. These drawings — I only skimmed them, but they’re beautiful. Very good for my ego,” he let out a little huff of laughter, “But I just want to know... Why? Do you have drawings like this of all the Avengers? Do they have books, too?” Tony looked very small, as if he couldn’t comprehend why he would be so special to Steve that he had a sketchbook dedicated just to him. 

At that exact moment, an air current from Steve’s ceiling fan blew open the sketchbook. Both Tony and Steve turned to look at the page it had opened to, and Steve’s face immediately colored. 

It was a more ...  _ intimate _ drawing, to say the least. Tony was depicted naked, sitting on his thighs and looking at the viewer half lidded, seductive. The lines were rushed, frantic. There was still a smear of come on the page from where Steve had rushed to get himself off, driven insane with pleasure. 

There was a long moment of silence. Tony looked at Steve. Steve looked back. 

“Um, no. I — I don’t have drawings like these of the other Avengers. Tony, I —” Steve was cut off by a sudden pressure on his lips, then on his entire body where Tony had attacked him, pinning him to the wall. 

Steve gasped for air as his lips slid against Tony’s. It felt like coming home, like everything had slotted into place. As his body rolled into Tony’s, he felt the inane urge to sketch this moment, to capture it in time forever. 

They broke away for a moment, foreheads pressed against each other as they breathed. “I love you,” Steve rushed out. “I love you so much.” Tony looked at him with heat in his eyes, and affection, and so,  _ so _ much love. 

“Right back atcha, Cap.” Tony’s eyes sparkled. 

“How about we go to bed, and we can act out some of your sketches?” There was a wicked smile on Tony’s face as he grabbed Steve’s hand, walking backwards as he talked. 

There wasn’t any more words between them for a long while. 

***

Much, much later, Steve wrapped up the secret Tony sketchbook of shame (though it wasn’t a secret anymore, or shameful), along with a few others that he had completed over the years. They were filled with sketches of the two of them, and the life they had lived together. There were sketches of them kissing, of them playing fetch with Dummy in the lab, of them cuddled up on the couch for a Star Wars marathon with Peter. There were more intimate sketches that were meant for their eyes only. Every stroke of the pencil exuded love, and affection. Steve was giving his all to Tony. 

On the very last page of the most recent sketchbook was a scene that hadn’t happened yet. It depicted Steve on one knee, holding out a ring to a stunned Tony. Steve took one last, fond look at the drawing before closing the book and carefully wrapping it with the others. His fingers closed around the ring in his pocket. He took a deep breath. 

_ Here goes nothing.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I told you all I could write something fluffy and not depressing, lol. I am an absolute sucker for fluffy fics and I love procrastinating on my homework and college admissions essays so there will definitely be more coming. I’m thinking of writing a chaptered Spider-Man fic to get over the depressing Sony deal, so we’ll see. Please leave kudos and comment because I am desperate for validation :) Love you guys, see you soon!  
-H❤️


End file.
